


Of All People

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, academic au, and SMUT, happy endings and fun times, nice and fluffy, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14333967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: After his relationship with Zechs ends, Trowa meets Duo - a vaguely familiar, handsome stranger who promises to help him forget his ex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



A/N: For Kangofu-CB. This past month has been absolute hell, and you got me through it. You got me through the year, really, and I can never thank you enough for being you. 

 

A/N2: Thank you as always and forever to Ro for amazing support and superb editing. I am so damn lucky to have you.

 

A/N3: Still hard at work on finishing  _ Bad Company _ with Kangofu-CB and also working on updates of other fics. This is just a 2 part little thing. 

 

A/N4: Comments mean the world to me and I cannot emphasize enough how much the feedback keeps me writing. Thank you everyone who has taken a moment to leave me a note.

 

A/N5: Have not been to Temple and know nothing about it. Just needed a setting. No offense meant to anyone associated with it. I hear they have a lovely theatre program. And that’s not at all what this fic is about.

  
  


Warnings: language, drinking, dancing, sex, slight angst, misuse of science

Pairings: 2x3,4x5, 1xH, former 3x6

  
  


_ Of All People _

  
  


“Wait, wait, wait. You’re full of shit. He broke up with you in an  _ email _ ? What the fuck was the subject line, ‘I’m an asshole, and by the way, I’m dumping you’?”

 

The sneer on Wufei’s face as he summed up Trowa’s recent relationship development said worlds about his opinion on Trowa’s ex-boyfriend.

 

Trowa sighed and raised his half-empty glass to his lips and took another sip of the whiskey sour, saving the tart aftertaste.

 

“No, the subject of the email was ‘Job Promotion Came Through.’”

 

Trowa remembered how excited he had been when he had opened the email. After all, Zechs had been angling for the promotion for  _ months _ , but then, two paragraphs in - after a summary of the job offer, the excellent pay and benefits, and how Zechs had negotiated for a several thousand dollar signing bonus on top of all of that - Zechs had said that with the new promotion he would be expected to travel even more, and their relationship, already long distance with Zechs in DC and Trowa in Philadelphia, would just become even more complicated, and really, it seemed like the best thing for both of them if they ended things now before they got  _ worse _ .

 

The implication that things had been bad, from Zechs’s point of view, was startling and upsetting. Not, of course, as upsetting as being dumped in an  _ email _ , but it had left Trowa with a kind of numb, cold rage that he hadn’t really known what to do with.

 

“I knew he was an asshole. I  _ told _ you he was an asshole,” Wufei growled.

 

“I’m sorry,” Quatre said, sitting beside Wufei in the cramped booth at the back of the bar, their regular dive on Saturday nights. Quatre looked less murdery than Wufei, but his expression of acute pain and empathy only made Trowa feel worse. He could take murdery. Empathy was tougher.

 

“It’s whatever,” Trowa sighed.

 

“It’s not whatever,” Quatre insisted.

 

“You deserve better. I  _ said _ you deserved better the first time you introduced us to him,” Wufei continued.

 

Trowa rolled his eyes.

 

“I remember, because you said it to his  _ face, _ and he never let it go.”

 

Wufei looked a little smug about that as he continued to sip his own drink.

 

“Good riddance,” he muttered, and then winced when Quatre elbowed him. “What?”

 

“Can you  _ try _ to be a little sympathetic?” Quatre said in a low voice.

 

Wufei gave first Quatre, and then Trowa, a look.

 

“I am so sorry your asshole boyfriend dumped you via email. Clearly, he had hidden depths, and you should deeply regret his loss.”

 

Trowa snorted at the deadpan tone. And the words themselves.

 

Zechs…

 

He and Trowa had dated for three years, had been long-distance for the last six months, ever since Trowa started a new position as an assistant professor in the history department at Temple University. Before that, while he had been completing a two-year post-doctoral fellowship at Georgetown University, he and Zechs had been able to share an apartment and, as much as Zechs’s position in the State Department had meant that he traveled frequently, they had still found time to be together. Much less so now that Trowa was in Philadelphia, but he had still made the effort of making the nearly three-hour drive as many weekends as he could. 

 

Apparently, it hadn’t been enough.

 

“I regret losing his dick,” Trowa sighed.

 

Quatre choked on his drink, and Wufei smirked before raising his glass.

 

“Let us take a moment to acknowledge that grave loss, and let us all wish that it falls off.”

 

Trowa had to laugh, but he raised his glass and, after an eye roll, Quatre raised his own, and they clinked them together before tossing them back.

 

“Was his dick really that great, though?” Quatre asked. “I mean, you  _ said _ the sex was good, but…”

 

“The sex was great,” Trowa sighed, and then frowned as he realized how long it had actually  _ been _ since he and Zechs had fucked. 

 

It was the middle of January now, and Zechs had been in Paris for two weeks, and for the two weeks before that Trowa had been visiting his sister in Georgia for Christmas, and the weekend before that Zechs had told Trowa not to bother coming down, and the weekend before  _ that _ Trowa hadn’t been able to because of an open house on campus and-

 

He was fairly certain the last time they had actually been together had been before Thanksgiving. 

 

Trowa had been so busy with the end of the fall semester he hadn’t even realized.

 

He wondered if he should have made more of an effort or-

 

“Stop second-guessing yourself,” Quatre said, kicking him under the table. “Zechs was an asshole who clearly can’t communicate, and you’re better off without him. Even if the sex was great. You’ll find another dick.”

 

It was Wufei’s turn to snort into his drink, and he gave the blond-haired man at his side a fond, amused look.

 

Quatre saw it, and his lips twitched upwards in response.

 

“You two are disgusting,” Trowa sighed.

 

Wufei put his arm over Quatre’s shoulders.

 

“Why? Because we can communicate  _ and _ have great sex  _ and _ we don’t mind demonstrating our affection for each other  _ and _ neither of us would ever dream about breaking up with the other in an email?”

 

“I think I’d cut off your balls if you did that,” Quatre mused, a thoughtful expression on his face.

 

Wufei removed his arm from Quatre’s shoulders and carefully put a bit of space between them.

 

Quatre gave him a beatific smile.

 

“But since you’ll never do that, you don’t need to be afraid.”

 

“Mm,” Wufei agreed, looking unconvinced.

 

“Speaking of finding new dicks,” Quatre said, looking past Trowa’s shoulder, “I think I’ve spotted a rebound dick for you.”

 

“Quatre, that’s not-”

 

Trowa turned to follow Quatre’s gaze, and saw a man across the bar, sitting at a table alone and reading a book while sipping from a glass of beer. 

 

He had glasses on, a chunky black sweater, and loose, long chestnut hair that brushed against his shoulders. He was breathtakingly handsome, and somehow vaguely familiar to Trowa.

 

“He’s reading a book,” Trowa pointed out.

 

“Exactly. So all you have to do is go over and turn on that… very rusty and always questionable Barton charm.”

 

“Wufei, your pep talks suck,” Trowa muttered, and resolutely turned away from the sight of the attractive man reading alone.

 

But Quatre had other ideas. He tossed down a wad of singles on the table, stood up, grabbed Trowa’s hand, and hauled him to his feet.

 

“No,  _ no _ ,” Trowa hissed, and tried to dig in his heels.

 

But Wufei got up as well, and gave him a none-too-gentle shove.

 

By the time they reached the handsome man’s table, Trowa’s face was flaming, and he was mentally cataloguing all of the ways he could - that he  _ would _ \- make his two best friends’ lives miserable.

 

They came to a stop beside the table, and the long-haired man looked up from his book and raised one eyebrow at them.

 

Up close, he was even more handsome, with dark blue eyes and just a bit of stubble along his jaw, and  _ fuck _ . Trowa loved the feel of slight stubble against his mouth, the slight, prickly burn and-

 

“Hi! I’m Quatre. This is my boyfriend, Wufei, and this is Trowa.”

 

The man’s lips twitched in amusement. He slid a bookmark between the pages he had been holding and carefully closed the book. Trowa craned his neck to see the title,  _ Anatomy of the State _ . He had to raise an eyebrow at that. Who sat in a bar on a Saturday night reading a philosophical treatise on anarcho-capitalism?

 

“I’m Duo,” he said, humor in his voice. “Are you guys some kind of… swinger triad, or what?”

 

Quatre’s face turned red, and Wufei smirked. Trowa wished he could just sink into the floor.

 

“What? No, no! Nothing like that!” Quatre grabbed Trowa’s hand and jostled him closer to the table. “No, um, Wufei and I are very happy together. We’re just… Trowa’s wingmen.”

 

Trowa rolled his eyes.

 

Duo’s lips twitched.

 

“Surely, I’m not intimidating enough to require  _ two _ wingmen?”

 

“I’m sorry about them. And about interrupting your evening,” Trowa said. “We’ll leave you alone to keep reading about the conquest and exploitation of humans.”

 

Duo’s eyes flashed, and he leaned forward.

 

“You’ve read it?” He tapped one finger against the cover of the book.

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“Yes. I can’t say it’s a brand of politics or philosophy I particularly appreciate, though.”

 

“Amen to that.” Duo made a disgusted sound. “My friend lent it to me, and it’s got me seriously starting to question our friendship, because this…” Duo gestured at the book again, “is a bunch of garbage.”

 

“Not as bad as Rockwell’s  _ Against the State _ ,” Trowa shrugged.

 

“I’ve been spared that one,” Duo grinned, and then his eyes flicked back over to Quatre and Wufei. He arched an eyebrow at them.

 

“Oh. Right.” Quatre clapped Trowa on the back. “I see our work here is done. Um. Well. We’ll just-”

 

“We’ll see you later,” Wufei finished, and mercifully pulled Quatre away.

 

Trowa watched them go, and then looked back down at Duo.

 

“Can I join you?” he asked, feeling more than a little foolish just standing there.

 

Duo smirked, and gestured to the seat across from him.

 

“Please. But only if you promise not to make me talk about this drivel. I promised him I’d read it, but I…” Duo gave a theatrical shudder.

 

“I think I’ve still got my notes on it from a seminar I took in grad school. I can give them to you,” Trowa offered.

 

Duo arched an eyebrow.

 

“Not even five minutes after we’ve met, and you’re offering me grad school notes? You’re pretty damn forward, Trowa.”

 

They shared a grin at the tease, and Trowa felt himself relax a fraction.

 

“It’s my go-to pick-up move.”

 

Duo snorted a laugh, and then leaned across the table.

 

“Yeah? How do you feel about...exchanging highlighters?” Duo’s voice was pitched low, a throaty rumble that made that sentence impossibly erotic.

 

Trowa felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he realized just how far out of his league Duo was. Handsome, funny, intelligent,  _ not _ just dumped via email…

 

He tried to swallow down the feeling of inadequacy and arched an eyebrow.

 

“I’ll show you mine,” he said, “if you show me yours.”

 

Duo laughed and sat back, leaning against the back of his chair, and Trowa felt relieved that the tension between them broke with that movement.

 

He also took the opportunity to mentally berate himself as Duo finished off his beer.

 

_ You can do this _ , he told himself.  _ You can have some meaningless flirtation with a total stranger in a bar. _

 

“So, do you come here often?” he asked, and immediately regretted it.

 

_ What the fuck?  _ Could he possibly sound  _ more _ pathetic?

 

Duo’s lips twitched, and he shrugged one shoulder.

 

“Every now and then. It’s a little far from my place, but it doesn’t have a live band on Saturday nights.”

 

Trowa nodded.

 

“I hate live bands. In bars. They’re fine at concerts.”

 

Again, Duo’s lips twitched, but he mercifully didn’t give into his clear desire to laugh.

 

“Agreed,” he merely said. 

 

“Do you want to get another round?” Trowa asked, gesturing to Duo’s empty glass.

 

Duo tilted his head to the side and regarded Trowa in silence for a moment.

 

“Actually,” he said, “I think I’m going to head out.”

 

“Oh.”

 

_ Way to go. _ Trowa wasn’t the least bit surprised at how quickly - or how badly - he had just crashed. He didn’t know what he had expected - that Duo would clap eyes on him, appreciate his  _ lame _ humor, and what, give Trowa his phone number? Set up a real date with him? Haul him into the bathroom and make out with him?

 

“What about you?” Duo asked, making no move to get up.

 

“Me?” Trowa asked stupidly.

 

“Yeah. Did you want to go or stay?”

 

Trowa frowned, not really sure why it mattered to Duo what  _ Trowa _ did since he was-

 

Oh. 

 

_ Oh _ .

 

“I can go,” he decided, and immediately wished that he would just  _ stop _ talking. 

 

“Great,” Duo grinned, and stood up.

 

Trowa waited while the other man left a tip on the table and picked up the book that neither man cared for.

 

They were silent as they navigated through the semi-crowded bar, and when they stepped outside, Trowa shivered at the sudden gust of cold air that wrapped around them.

 

Duo crowded him close to the side of the building, Trowa stumbling a few steps until Duo reached out to steady him against the worn bricks.

 

“What-”

 

“You’re into me, right?” Duo interrupted Trowa’s question.

 

“Yes. Of course.”

 

“Of course?” Duo repeated with a grin.

 

“You’re gorgeous and funny and-”

 

Duo interrupted him again, this time with a kiss.

 

He was an inch or two shorter than Trowa, but close enough in height that all Trowa had to do was tilt his head just a fraction to find the perfect angle for their lips to connect.

 

Trowa was struck immediately by how different it felt not to be kissing someone a good four inches taller than himself. He didn’t have to crane his neck, didn’t have to rely on Zechs to meet him halfway, didn’t have to tug Zechs  _ down _ to him.

 

Kissing Duo was  _ easy, _ and fuck, it felt good. Duo’s lips were smooth and warm and slick moving over Trowa’s, still curved upwards, and it felt  _ nice _ .

 

Duo stepped back, still grinning, and Trowa could only stare at him.

 

“So… you coming home with me?” Duo asked, holding out his free hand.

 

_ This _ was definitely not a possibility that Trowa had considered.

 

“I have to walk my dog.”

 

It was Duo’s turn to stare.

 

“She’s old - and if I don’t walk her at eleven, she’ll tear up my apartment and-”

 

“Trowa, you can just say  _ no _ , dude, it’s okay.”

 

“No, I’m not saying no. I just can’t go over to your place this late.”

 

Duo nodded slowly and stood there in silence, clearly waiting for Trowa to say something else. But Trowa had no idea what he expected.

 

“Well,” Duo said at last, “if you can’t come over to mine…”

 

“You could come to my apartment?” Trowa offered.

 

Duo grinned again.

 

“What if  _ I _ have a dog that I have to walk at eleven?”

 

“Do you?”

 

Duo snorted a laugh.

 

“No. I’m more of a cat person. But I don’t have one of those either.”

 

Trowa frowned.

 

“You aren’t allergic to dogs, are you?”

 

“No, I’m not allergic to dogs. Did you drive, or did one of your wingmen?”

 

“Quatre drove.”

 

“Want a lift, then?” Duo asked.

 

“Please.”

 

Duo started to walk away, but Trowa reached for his hand and hauled him close again. He wrapped his arms around the other man and kissed him, caressing Duo’s lips until his smirk fell away and his mouth opened. Trowa tasted him, cataloguing the hoppy taste of beer, the heat of his mouth, the tangle of his tongue.

 

Duo groaned, and his hands fisted in the front of Trowa’s shirt, holding him in place as the kiss continued until, finally, they parted, breathless and dark-eyed.

 

“Yeah,” Duo said after a moment, “your place sounds great.”

 

-o-


	2. Chapter 2

The ride was silent, aside from Trowa’s murmured directions, and the radio, which Duo had tuned to a sports station. The volume was low, but the running commentary on the Phillies-Diamondbacks game didn’t do all that much to relax Trowa.

 

He didn’t even  _ like _ baseball. 

 

But Zechs had been a Phillies fan. And Trowa had actually bought tickets to a game between the Phillies and Nationals for Zechs’s upcoming birthday in May, and- 

 

Well. Fuck that. He would give them away. He was sure that  _ someone _ he knew would appreciate the tickets. Hell, maybe  _ Duo _ would like them.

 

Thinking of Zechs made Trowa feel… almost guilty that he was bringing a guy - a stranger, at that - over to his apartment. Then again,  _ why _ should he feel guilty? Zechs had ended things. Had very clearly stated in his relatively short email that their relationship was over and it hadn’t been  _ good enough _ for him for a long time.

 

Trowa had every right to bring a guy home. Hell, he had every right to bring the entire  _ Phillies _ team home if he wanted to. Except that there was no way they could fit, and he didn’t even know  _ any  _ of them so he wasn’t even sure if there was a single attractive player, let alone a gay one.

 

He slanted a look over at Duo, and the other man must have felt his gaze, because he turned his head just enough for their eyes to momentarily catch, and Duo offered him a smirk.

 

“What?” Duo asked.

 

“Nothing. I was just wondering if any of the Phillies players are gay.”

 

“Yeah, I dunno. I kind of  _ hope _ Nick Williams is. Otherwise, I’m going to feel a bit guilty about fantasizing about him, but… that’s the best I’ve got.”

 

Trowa had no idea who Nick Williams was. Zechs had learned long ago that Trowa didn’t care at  _ all _ about baseball, and had completely given up on talking to him about it.

 

It was ironic, or maybe it wasn’t, that Duo seemed to be a fan as well. And he had long hair.

 

Clearly, Trowa had a type.

 

Duo’s smirks, though, were nothing like Zechs’s. The blond-haired man’s lips had always curved with a secret, patronizing humor that either irritated the hell out of Trowa or provoked him into wiping the smirk off of his face with the handful of methods that had proven to overpower Zechs’s equilibrium. 

 

Duo’s were warmer - still filled with humor, but it didn’t feel like he had some superior sense of himself. It simply felt like he was  _ happy _ and enjoying himself, and was more than willing to let Trowa in on the joke. 

 

Or maybe Trowa was just reading too much into the whole thing because he was anxious and he hadn’t had to try to flirt with someone who wasn’t Zechs in nearly three years, and so far his best material had involved sharing his  _ grad school notes _ .

 

“I’m just up here,” Trowa pointed to the brick row house that he had moved into over the summer. The house had been divided into six apartments, two per floor, and Trowa’s, situated on the third floor, had been a painful hike when he had had to haul all of his furniture up in the full summer heat. Quatre and Wufei still liked to gripe about having to help him.

 

Duo parked, and then followed him into the entrance.

 

Instinctively, Trowa walked towards the row of mailboxes on the wall in the lobby, and then paused, feeling like an idiot.

 

But Duo just leaned against the wall, smirk in place, and looked content to wait while Trowa dug around for his key.

 

As he did so, Mrs. Kearns, a middle-aged woman who lived on the second floor and whose dog had a mortal enmity with Trowa’s, came down the stairs from the second floor, dog in tow.

 

She looked from Trowa to Duo.

 

“Who’s this?” she asked.

 

“Friend of Trowa’s,” Duo answered for himself, the edges of his smirk growing a bit stiff.

 

Mrs. Kearns’s lips tightened.

 

“Where’s Zechs this weekend?” she asked Trowa.

 

Trowa pulled his mail out and slammed the mailbox door closed.

 

He turned on Mrs. Kearns, who he hadn’t liked even  _ before _ her dog tried to attack his the first time. She was an annoying busybody, and she had had nothing but snide remarks for him until she met Zechs for the first time and was instantly won over by his cool, confident charm.

 

“I have no idea. He dumped me in an email four days ago, so I can’t say that I give a fuck.”

 

He was vaguely aware of Duo straightening up, eyes wide and smirk erased, but Trowa’s attention was mostly focused on Mrs. Kearns.

 

Her tight lips fell open.

 

“ _ No _ .”

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Trowa echoed her tone, and then turned to Duo. “I’m on the third floor.”

 

Duo licked his lips, and then nodded.

 

“Great. I’ll, uh, follow you.”

 

Trowa walked past Mrs. Kearns without another word, Duo at his heels, and he took the steps two at a time, angry with her, irritated with himself, and furious with Zechs.

 

Furious with the  _ world, _ really. Because fuck this. Fuck  _ all _ of it and-

 

Duo’s hand found his as they came to the landing on the second floor.

 

Trowa looked down at their joined hands, and then up at Duo.

 

“Hey,” Duo said, his expression open and sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“It’s not your fault.”

 

“Well, no, but still - getting dumped in an email is… really fucking shitty. No wonder your friends were so determined to find you a guy tonight.”

 

Trowa snorted a laugh.

 

“Determined is one way to put it.”

 

Duo’s lips twitched in agreement.

 

They continued up the stairs, still holding hands, and it felt so  _ nice _ .

 

Everything about Duo was  _ nice _ compared to Zechs - his smirk, his kisses, his hand in Trowa’s. 

 

When they finally reached the third floor, Trowa eased his hand out of Duo’s and dug into his pocket for his keys.

 

Duo leaned against the wall again, like he had done while Trowa checked his mail, and Trowa looked over at him, at how casual and comfortable Duo looked, at the slight upward curve of his lips, the warmth in his dark blue eyes.

 

He wasn’t, Trowa told himself firmly, anything like Zechs. Except for the hair and the Phillies thing.

 

And there was nothing wrong with long hair. And the Phillies thing… Everyone had faults.

 

Trowa opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside. Duo followed him, stepping to the side to let Trowa close the door.

 

Before Trowa could turn on the lights, he heard the clatter of feet on the wooden floor, and a moment later, heard Duo release a surprised  _ oof _ .

 

He flicked the lights on and turned to see Duo looking down at his feet, head cocked to the side, a bemused expression on his face.

 

“Not what I pictured when you said you had a dog,” Duo said as he bent down and held out his hand towards the dog.

 

Laika was a border terrier, and was only about a foot tall. Her scruffy coat looked perpetually in need of a bath, and Zechs had said more than once that if she ever got loose, she would be mistaken for a wandering mutt. 

 

“What’s her name?” Duo asked when she started to lick his hand. Trowa could see that Duo’s eyes were crinkled, and he looked genuinely happy to have the dog’s attention, for all that he was a cat person.

 

“Laika.”

 

Duo grinned up at him.

 

“We’ve got a cosmonaut on our hands, huh?” he asked, and scooped the dog up.

 

She was delighted, licking at his face and neck before he angled his head away, and Duo gave her head and back a thorough scratching.

 

Trowa felt a little jealous.

 

“I should walk her,” he said after a moment.

 

“Oh. Right. I forgot.” Duo smirked at him. “Mind if I tag along?”

 

Trowa picked up the leash from its hook on the back of the door, and Duo set Laika down.

 

“That would be nice,” he said.

 

He carried Laika down the stairs, setting her down only once they were outside and safely heading the opposite direction that Mrs. Kearns usually took.

 

Duo fell into step beside him, keeping stride, looking perfectly content to walk through the neighborhood with Trowa.

 

“Sorry,” Trowa felt the need to say.

 

Duo slanted a look over at him.

 

“For what?”

 

Trowa sighed and shrugged.

 

“Awkward neighbors and complications and-”

 

Duo did a kind of skipping half-step, putting himself directly in front of Trowa, and he pressed a quick, firm kiss to Trowa’s lips.

 

“Your ex is clearly a fucking idiot, and I was thinking of using a different word to describe your neighbor. Plus, I love eleven o-clock walks in the neighborhood before rebound sex.”

 

“Just how often are you the rebound guy?” Trowa asked, belatedly realizing that it wasn’t  _ the _ most flattering thing to ask.

 

Duo snorted a laugh.

 

“It’s not like a second job or anything, but I’ve been the guy in the bar a few times. Enough to know that it’s complicated and not the easiest thing in the world - even with your two friends there to help you out.”

 

It was Trowa’s turn to snort.

 

“With friends like them…” he sighed and shook his head. “It  _ is _ complicated.”

 

“The sex doesn’t have to be,” Duo assured him with a smirk.

 

Duo kissed him again, and then stepped out of his way, letting Trowa continue the walk. It was another few minutes before Laika finished her business, and the walk was surprisingly… nice.

 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised Trowa, all things considered.

 

What did surprise him, when they were back inside and Laika released, was the sight of Duo pulling off what looked like three layers of sweaters and dropping them to the floor to reveal his toned, naked torso.

 

“Um.”

 

Trowa stared for a moment, because he hadn’t really known  _ what _ to expect from Duo’s body under the oversized black sweater, and after dating Zechs for so long, a man who spent more time working out than anyone else Trowa had ever known, he hadn’t really counted on being that impressed with anyone else physically.

 

But Duo…

 

He didn’t have the same kind of chiseled definition that Zechs slaved away to achieve, but he was lean, shoulders, arms and torso all displaying the musculature of a swimmer, or a runner or-

 

Duo reached for the fly of his own jeans and popped it open, and Trowa stopped trying to compare him to Zechs. 

 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

 

Duo arched an eyebrow at him, smirk firmly in place and eyes sparkling with amusement and heat.

 

“Getting naked. You seem the type to overthink things, and I  _ did _ promise that the sex would be uncomplicated.”

 

“You did,” Trowa agreed, watching as Duo unzipped his jeans and then shoved them and - if he was even wearing any - his underwear down to his ankles.

 

Duo toed off his shoes and pulled off his pants, depositing all of his clothes in a careless bundle, and Trowa looked his fill.

 

“Your turn,” Duo said, drawing Trowa’s attention away from his cock. Duo wasn’t even hard yet, and his cock-

 

Trowa’s mouth watered, but he followed Duo’s directions and hurriedly undressed, tossing his own clothes to the floor as well, narrowly missing dropping a shoe on Laika before she decided to head for her dog bed, offering up a disgruntled growl as she retreated.

 

“Mmm.” Duo’s eyes raked over Trowa from head to toe, his smirk crooking upwards even farther and his eyes growing dark. “Your ex is a fucking moron.”

 

“You said that already,” Trowa had to point out.

 

“Nope. I called him a fucking idiot last time.” Duo stepped close, reaching out one hand and smoothing it over Trowa’s chest and down to his waist before he grasped Trowa’s left hip and hauled him close, until their fronts were pressed together.

 

This kiss wasn’t what Trowa would describe as  _ nice _ .

 

Electric or volcanic felt more appropriate. Duo’s lips and teeth and tongue were sharp and firm and  _ hot, _ and Trowa’s groans of pleasure, his needy gasps as Duo’s hands traced over his body and their cocks stirred to arousal together, were swallowed up by Duo’s smirking mouth.

 

Trowa buried his hands in Duo’s loose hair, finding his scalp and curving his fingers, dragging his short nails over the skin, and Duo clutched at him, moaning and rocking against him. Trowa tugged on his roots, angling Duo’s head and breaking free of the kiss.

 

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath, and felt as much as heard Duo do the same.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Duo groaned as Trowa tugged again, exposing Duo’s neck so he could lick and nip his way down from Duo’s firm jaw to his clavicle.

 

“The dumbest fucking-”

 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Trowa interrupted.

 

Duo looked up at him, his eyes dark and eyelids heavy, his lips swollen and cheeks flushed. He was utterly stunning.

 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Duo said. “I don’t really want to either. Whaddya want me to do with my mouth instead?” he asked, grinning confidently.

 

Trowa had to grin back at him.

 

“Same thing you want me to do with mine?”

 

Duo licked his lips and captured Trowa’s mouth in another kiss.

 

Trowa maneuvered them towards the couch, and he let Duo push him down onto it.

 

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Duo said, looking Trowa over again. He reached down to give Trowa’s cock a thoughtful tug. Trowa arched up into Duo’s grip and then reached for Duo’s cock, stroking him in the same rhythm that Duo used on him.

 

It wasn’t long before they were breathing unevenly, until Duo’s chest was as flushed as his face, and Trowa wished he wasn’t already so close, wished it hadn’t been so long, because he really didn’t think he was going to last long at all.

 

“Come here.” He let go of Duo’s cock and tugged on his hip.

 

There was an awkward moment as they situated themselves, Duo crawling over Trowa, shoving a knee into his ear and then nearly taking out his eye with his erection.

 

Duo’s apology held a note of laughter, but it died as soon as Trowa’s tongue flicked over the crown of his cock.

 

“Sorry, I-  _ Fuck _ ,” Duo breathed, and then groaned as Trowa slid his lips up Duo’s length.

 

Duo was big enough that Trowa wasn’t able to swallow all of him, especially not at the angle they had negotiated. He had to use his left hand to try to keep Duo steady, but he used his right hand to tease at Duo’s balls and then lower, over his perineum, and Duo groaned again.

 

“Complete, absolutely braindead fucking-” Whatever other words Duo was about to use to describe Zechs were lost as he descended on Trowa’s erection, tongue teasing at the precum on the head before tracing over the shaft, swirling wet heat down and around until Trowa had a hard time holding himself still.

 

And then Duo took Trowa into his mouth and down his throat in one swift, smooth motion that left Trowa choking on Duo’s cock as he came, thrusting helplessly into Duo’s mouth and clutching at his hips.

 

_ Fuck _ .

 

_ Fuck. _

 

_ Fuck _ .

 

Duo slowly eased his mouth off of Trowa and pulled his cock away at the same time, letting Trowa suck in a deep, ragged breath.

 

“Sorry,” he gasped, feeling his heart thunder. His nerve endings were still alight with pleasure, and if Trowa hadn’t been fighting down embarrassment, he would have been overwhelmed by how fucking  _ good _ his climax had just felt.

 

“For what?” Duo turned around, smirking once again, and pressed a light kiss to Trowa’s lips. “I’m taking it as a compliment.  _ Also _ as a sign that your ex was a-”

 

He started to pull away, but Trowa tangled his hands in Duo’s hair and held him close, urging his lips open and tasting himself on Duo’s tongue.

 

Duo gave an appreciative moan, and Trowa ran his hands down Duo’s back, kneading at the firm muscles he encountered, and down to his hips and then his ass, squeezing and pushing Duo’s erection against Trowa’s belly.

 

Trowa rolled them, the kiss turning sloppy as he positioned Duo under him, and then he started to kiss his way down Duo’s torso.

 

“Yeah, definitely no apologies necessary,” Duo chuckled, and then hissed when Trowa bit down on his right nipple.

 

Trowa looked up to see Duo watching him, eyes still dark, face still flushed, and he tried to copy Duo’s smirk as he worked his way across Duo’s chest to lave and suck on his other nipple.

 

Duo pushed Trowa’s bangs away from his face, fingers tugging a little, and Trowa hummed at the sensation. He had always had a thing for hair pulling - for doing it and having it done to him.

 

He continued downwards, finding a sensitive spot on Duo’s rib cage that had him arching up into Trowa’s mouth.

 

Eventually, though, Trowa turned his attention on Duo’s erection. The crown was wet, and Trowa spread the viscous precum with his fingers, coating as much of Duo as he could, alternating between firm tugs and teasing glances across the sensitive underside.

 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Duo panted. “I didn’t do any of this to you.”

 

“You didn’t have the chance,” Trowa pointed out.

 

“True,” Duo groaned, and bucked upwards, hips rising with each downward motion of Trowa’s hand.

 

Trowa moved his hand away, and Duo’s eyes narrowed. 

 

He watched as Trowa sucked on two of his fingers, and then, as Trowa reached down again, Duo’s legs immediately shifted apart, inviting Trowa to caress his perineum and tease at his tight opening.

 

As Duo’s hips rose again and he seemed intent on contorting his body in two directions, Trowa finally lowered his head and lapped at Duo’s cock.

 

Duo let out a sound of relief and then a muttered oath as Trowa lowered his head, slowly taking all of Duo’s length.

 

He used the hand teasing Duo’s ass to press his hips upwards, encouraging Duo to thrust into his mouth.

 

“You- you don’t mind.”

 

Trowa looked up Duo’s body and held his gaze as he lifted Duo’s hips again.

 

Duo chuckled and took over, shallowly thrusting up.

 

“Mmm,” Trowa hummed encouragement around Duo’s cock as it moved, and Duo muttered something unintelligible.

 

Trowa finally managed to work a finger into Duo’s body, the tight sheath pulling the digit in, and Duo moaned again. Trowa made sure to be careful as he added a second, curving his fingers and gently exploring Duo even as the other man continued to fuck his mouth.

 

He found the spot in Duo’s body that made him cry out in pleasure and start to move erratically, his pace breaking and his steady, shallow thrusts turning deeper and more forceful.

 

“God, Trowa, fucking hell- Your fucking mouth feels so good and-“

 

He made a garbled sound as Trowa stroked against his perineum from the inside and hummed again.

 

“Fuck, Tro, I’m close, Tro, I’m going to come if- Fuck, Trowa,  _ fuck _ !”

 

Duo’s come hit the back of Trowa’s throat in salty waves that he greedily swallowed.

 

He gentled his pressure on Duo’s cock and slowed the movement of his fingers in his body as Duo rode his orgasm, trying to coax more from him, until finally Duo made a sound that was somewhere between pleasure and protest and gently shoved at Trowa’s shoulders.

 

“No more,” he breathed. “It’s too much. Fuck.”

 

Trowa pulled away, letting Duo’s cock slip from between his lips and easing his fingers free.

 

He sat back on his knees and looked down at Duo.

 

The other man was thoroughly wrecked, his entire body flushed and his chest rising unsteadily. His eyes were closed and his lips parted.

 

“Fucking hell. That was amazing.”

 

It had been amazing. Satisfying for Trowa on so many levels - not just getting off, but getting Duo off and-

 

Duo tugged on Trowa’s shoulders, until he propped himself up on an elbow above Duo and kissed him again.

 

The kiss continued, turning leisurely and teasing, and Trowa couldn’t remember the last time he and Zechs had kissed just to  _ kiss _ and not as a prelude to sex or as a hasty goodbye gesture. 

 

He wasn’t even sure they had  _ ever _ kissed like this.

 

It was  _ nice, _ and it had been a hell of a long time since Trowa had had anything approaching nice in his life.

 

Duo wrapped his arms around Trowa, and Trowa eased away from his lips and rested his head on Duo’s shoulder. Duo skimmed his fingers up and down Trowa’s spine.

 

“You know, when my fiance dumped me last year, I decided the best way to erase him was to have sex with my rebound guy in all of the same places we’d had sex.”

 

“How did that work for you?”

 

“Pretty fucking well, actually,” Duo chuckled, and his fingers drifted to the nape of Trowa’s neck, gently tugging on Trowa’s hair. “I was sore for a few days after, but I definitely didn’t think about  _ him _ the next time I took a shower.”

 

Zechs hadn’t come up to visit Trowa too often, since Trowa’s schedule was slightly more flexible, and his Friday afternoons generally free to make the tedious drive down to D.C. But he had come a few times, and they  _ had _ had that epic marathon over Labor Day weekend of ‘christening’ the apartment, as Zechs had said as he stripped Trowa down and bent him over the counter in the bathroom.

 

“Let’s do it,” Trowa decided.

 

“Hm?” Duo sounded as if he had been in the process of drifting off, or thinking of something - or someone - far away.

 

“Let’s erase him.”

 

Trowa leaned up enough to look down at Duo.

 

The other man met his gaze, lips curving upwards.

 

“Alright. Where do you want to start?”

 

-o-


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For Kangofu-CB. This past month has been absolute hell, and you got me through it. You got me through the year, really, and I can never thank you enough for being you. 

 

A/N2: Thank you as always and forever to Ro for amazing support and superb editing. I am so damn lucky to have you.

 

A/N3: Still hard at work on finishing  _ Bad Company _ with Kangofu-CB and also working on updates of other fics. This is just a 2 part little thing. 

 

A/N4: Comments mean the world to me and I cannot emphasize enough how much the feedback keeps me writing. Thank you everyone who has taken a moment to leave me a note.

 

A/N5: Have not been to Temple and know nothing about it. Just needed a setting. No offense meant to anyone associated with it. I hear they have a lovely theatre program. And that’s not at all what this fic is about.

  
  


Warnings: language, drinking, dancing, sex, slight angst, misuse of science

Pairings: 2x3,4x5, 1xH, former 3x6

  
  


_ Of All People _

 

It was that point in the spring semester that Trowa started to feel as if he would  _ never _ catch up on grading and that he hadn’t actually  _ been _ caught up on grading in something like fifty-seven years.

 

Never mind that he was only twenty-nine, or that, in reality, he was just ten days behind on his grades. But ten days, between his four classes, and his eighty-seven students, meant fifty tests, seventeen midterm research essays, and twenty research presentations to grade. Plus, of course, fifteen students to advise for their fall semester classes  _ and _ his work on the Sustainability Committee, and  _ why _ had he agreed to chair the Earth Day Festival?

 

And then, of course, there was the issue with the email servers. In early February, the women’s soccer team had had a late night hazing ritual with their freshmen in Robbins Hall, which hosted IT and, bizarrely, several coaches’ offices, and their hijinks had resulted in three servers being damaged - two badly enough that they had needed to be replaced, and Trowa hadn’t even known a server was a  _ physical  _ thing - the email system for the university had been selective, at best. Trowa was still periodically getting emails postmarked from the first week of March, even though it was now the second week of April. Including several emails from his department chair urging Trowa to apply for conference funding - deadlines which had now passed - and a  _ string _ of emails from the Faculty Office telling him to schedule his class observations.

 

Each spring, tenure track faculty were subjected to observations from one of their departmental colleagues, and two from faculty outside of their field. Trowa had been fortunate enough to have Sally Po, his mentor and the reason he had even applied for this position in the first place, observe his Eastern European History class last month. His other two observers - a math professor who had shown up late and left after only ten minutes of scribbling on his notebook and a sports management professor who had stayed for the duration of his Sex in 20th Century Europe class and even lingered after to ask him several questions - had been fine.

 

Trowa, as a first year professor, hadn’t really thought  _ he _ would be called on to observe anyone else’s classes.

But apparently he  _ had _ been - back in February. And the Faculty Office was incredibly irate that he had yet to respond.

 

Trowa wrote an appropriately apologetic email first to the Faculty Office and then to Dr. Maxwell, the organic chemistry professor Trowa had apparently stood up for the last six weeks, and scheduled the class observation for Friday afternoon.

 

It was criminal, Trowa couldn’t help but think as he trudged across campus to the sprawling concrete monolith that housed the science departments in the cold wind and light rain, to schedule a chemistry  _ lab _ on a Friday at four pm. Trowa couldn’t imagine the students were particularly happy about it, and he found it hard to believe there were many  _ professors _ all that eager to give up the chance for a long weekend by teaching a class that wasn’t scheduled to end until 6:30.

 

By the time he made it to the building, it was 3:55. And by the time he found a stairwell that, presumably, would take him from the 2nd floor down to the basement level, it was 4:00.

 

He was already going to be late, and, now from personal experience, he knew exactly how annoying that would be for Dr. Maxwell.

 

Trowa also couldn’t  _ find _ the damn room once he made it to the basement.

 

Room 007 didn’t seem to actually  _ exist _ . He found 006 and 008 and- The entire floor, Trowa realized ten minutes later, was evenly numbered. There were  _ no _ odd numbers at all.

 

With a frustrated groan, Trowa finally knocked on the closed office door of a Dr. Schbeiker. He could see a light on under the door, and after he knocked, he heard two muffled voices, a series of  _ thumps, _ and what sounded like something shattering on the floor followed by a decidedly less muffled voice.

 

“Damnit, Heero - that was my favorite mug!”

 

Hesitantly, Trowa knocked again.

 

The voice was female, and when the door opened a moment later, Trowa was confronted by a petite, dark-haired woman with smeared blue lipstick on her mouth and, standing behind her and hastily tucking his shirt back into his pants, was a man with similarly smeared lipstick around his own mouth and jawline. Trowa guessed that he was  _ Heero _ .

 

“Hi,” Trowa said when the woman arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“Hi,” she growled in response. “My office hours ended twenty minutes ago, and I don’t know who you are. Oh, fuck. Please tell me you aren’t that post-doc Noin is giving me? This is  _ not _ how I wanted us to meet.” She hastily rubbed her hands over her shirt and then held one out.

 

“Hilde Schbeiker,” she said, smiling winningly. Trowa wondered if either she or Heero knew the state of their lipstick-decorated faces.

 

“No, I’m not your new post-doc. I’m from the history department. I’m actually looking for lab 007? I’m supposed to observe Dr. Maxwell’s class.”

 

Heero snorted.

 

“007? That’s really the room number he gave you?”

 

Trowa nodded and, feeling foolish for not thinking to do it before, he pulled up the email from Maxwell and checked it again. Maybe it had been a 2 instead of a 7?

 

But it wasn’t. He turned the phone to show Hilde and Heero.

 

They both rolled their eyes.

 

“Fucking nerd,” Hilde sighed. “C’mon. The room actually doesn’t have a number - which is why he calls it 007. Well, that’s what he’s calling it this week. What was it last month, Heero?”

 

“The batcave,” the other man growled. “And last semester, he somehow talked Facilities into making a sign for it that said Fortress of Solitude.”

 

Trowa fell into step behind the two as they left Hilde’s office and started walking down the hall.

 

“Really?” Trowa had to laugh. His own encounters with Mike Howard, the head of Facilities, had indicated that the other man would be up for exactly that type of joke.

 

“Yeah, but when the Dean brought the Board of Trustees on a tour over the winter break, they took it down. So now he’s trying out new room names until he settles on one.”

 

Trowa  _ really _ wished he wasn’t going to be late now. Dr. Maxwell sounded like someone he might actually like.

 

Hilde gestured towards a closed door at the end of the hall, bearing no room assignment at all.

 

“There you go. You’re a few minutes late, but…”

 

Without any warning, Hilde opened the door to the lab.

 

“Safety inspection!” she shouted. “Goggles and gloves!”

 

“What the fuck, Hilde? We’re doing Azo dyes! Don’t just barge in shouting like that!”

 

The voice tugged on Trowa’s memory, and when he stepped up to Hilde’s shoulder, his jaw dropped as he recognized the man standing at the front of the room.

 

There were dozens of students and lab tables between them, and he was wearing huge, hideous safety glasses and his hair was pulled back, but the man was unmistakably Duo.

 

Duo, the man that Trowa had brought home one night in January, days after Zechs had dumped him via email.

 

Duo, the man that Trowa had spent nearly  _ twelve hours _ fucking and talking to until they both fell asleep in a spent, exhausted tangle of limbs on the couch where the night had started.

 

Duo, the man who had been  _ very _ noticeably absent when Trowa woke up sometime the next afternoon, sore and confused and  _ hurt _ .

 

“Trowa?”

 

Duo sounded just as shocked to see him as Trowa felt seeing Duo.

 

“ _ Trowa _ ?” Hilde echoed, her voice sounding delighted. “You’re  _ the _ Trowa? Oh my god, Heero, this is  _ Trowa _ .”

 

Duo’s cheeks turned a bright red, and Trowa felt his own cheeks heat as the students turned en masse to stare at him. A few started to whisper amongst themselves, and Trowa wondered what the hell was going on.

 

“What are you doing here?” Duo asked.

 

“I’m supposed to observe your class.”

 

“What? No- no, you aren’t. Dr. Barton is supposed to observe my class today.”

 

“I’m Dr. Barton. Trowa Barton. I’m guessing you’re Dr. Maxwell?”

 

“Oh my  _ god _ . This is  _ so _ good,” Hilde muttered. Trowa glared down at her, but she looked completely unperturbed. “Wait until we tell Relena. She’s going to  _ die _ .”

 

Duo looked mortified and furious in equal measure. And as much as Trowa felt a cruel delight in seeing the other man off-balance and upset, he  _ was _ here to do a job.

 

He cleared his throat.

 

“Thank you for showing me the lab, Dr. Schbeiker. I don’t want to further derail Dr. Maxwell’s class. I’m just going to take a seat in the back now. Have a good weekend.” And with that, he stepped past her and closed the door shut in her face.

 

Duo’s shoulders slumped in relief.

 

“Thanks,” he said. “Take a seat wherever you want. Ed, can you give Dr. Barton a copy of the handouts for today’s lab?”

 

Trowa sat down at an empty lab table off to the side, where he had a good view of both Duo and the students. He took out the folder with the observation form, and accepted the packet of handouts that a gangly boy with shockingly bright red hair gave him.

 

“Right.” Duo drew in a deep breath and picked up a strip of fabric in one hand. “Like I was saying. This is our test strip. It’s woven into different textile segments, and each segment is going to react differently to the dye strains. So, safety protocols for this lab - anyone?”

 

Trowa listened while the students offered up suggestions, which Duo amended to include  _ more _ safety precautions than ‘don’t drink the dye’ before he gave instructions for how to proceed.

 

It was interesting, watching the students dip their fabric test strips, watching Duo work his way among them, offering praise or asking questions or gently guiding students back on track.

 

After half an hour, Trowa had already filled out most of his observation form, giving Duo well-earned and excellent marks and comments in each of the categories.

 

And then Duo finished his loop with the students and walked over to Trowa’s table.

 

“Uh, did you want to join in the lab? I set up supplies in case you did. But I…”

 

Duo seemed incredibly nervous to be in Trowa’s presence again, and Trowa couldn’t help but wonder  _ why _ he had just snuck out that day. What had Trowa done wrong? Had the whole night and morning been so awful that he couldn’t even stick around long enough to tell Trowa his  _ last name _ ?

 

“Sure,” Trowa decided. “Why not?”

 

Duo nodded and walked away. He came back a moment later pushing a cart full of supplies.

 

“Gloves and goggles.” He handed Trowa those first. “And your mask while you mix the dye solution. You can take it off after, if you want. Or keep it on. The real danger is inhaling the particulates - but really, it would just irritate your sinuses. Nothing carcinogenic or anything. Well. I mean, if you  _ drink _ the solution, it probably wouldn’t-”

 

“I did listen to you give the safety protocols earlier,” Trowa interrupted him.

 

“Right. Of course. Um - I need to start them on the next step. But I’ll be back in a few to help you if you-”

 

“I think I can manage. I’ll ask if I need help,” Trowa assured him.

 

Duo bit his lip, looked like he wanted to say something more, but then turned and walked back to the front of the room.

 

Trowa listened while he explained the next part of the lab - dipping new fabric test strips into solutions of lye, chlorine bleach and vinegar.

 

By the time Duo made his way back over to Trowa, he had finished dyeing the test strips and felt fairly confident he had correctly identified all of the textiles.

 

Duo looked over his work and grinned.

 

“Nicely done - although, take a look at this one again. Describe the color to me?”

 

“Indigo?” Trowa said, referencing the chart in one of Duo’s handouts. 

 

“Close, yeah, it’s got some indigo there,  _ but _ do you think it might be Pthalo Green instead?”

 

It clearly was, if Duo was guiding him in that direction, which meant that Trowa had mixed up two of the textiles.

 

He sighed and rewrote the correct answers.

 

Duo grinned at him.

 

“Good. Seriously - better than some of my grad students could do.”

 

Trowa snorted in disagreement.

 

“You want to do the next part? It’s a little tricky - and there’s the chance of chemical burns.”

 

Since none of Duo’s students seemed to have suffered, and were all now working on answering questions after completing the portion of the lab involving the lye, chlorine and vinegar, Trowa shrugged.

 

“Sure.”

 

Duo started to set up the solutions for him, and Trowa couldn’t help but ask the question that had been bugging him for months now.

 

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

 

Duo fumbled the beaker of lye in his hand, swearing as it hit the edge of the table and then spilled onto his gloved hand and wrist.

 

“Shit,” he muttered.

 

Trowa, who had listened to Duo go over the safety protocols, and who had seen  _ Fight Club _ as a teenager, stared at Duo with wide eyes.

 

The other man sucked in a deep breath, turned on his heel, and briskly crossed the room to the sink and turned on the water.

 

Trowa hurried after him.

 

“What can I do? How can I help?”

 

“I- I’m fine,” Duo said between gritted teeth. 

 

“That was lye. This is a chemical burn. How do we get it off? Do we need some kind of base or-”

 

“Trowa. Calm down. I know how to treat it. I just need to flush it with cool water. After I get this damn glove off.”

 

He watched as Duo gingerly removed the glove and then cursed again.

 

“And my shirt,” he muttered with a grimace.

 

_ That _ Trowa could at least help with.

 

He reached for the buttons of the black dress shirt after watching Duo try to get one loose.

 

By the time Trowa had unbuttoned the entire shirt and started to pull it away from Duo’s shoulders, his students had realized something was going on.

 

“Dr. Maxwell - do you need help?” It was Ed, and Trowa assumed the boy was Duo’s TA.

 

“Nah, I’m all good. Just showing Dr. Barton how to treat a chemical burn. Who remembers how to treat a chemical burn?”

 

“You’re turning this into a teaching  _ moment _ ?” Trowa asked in dismay as he and Duo finally managed to free Duo’s arm from the shirt.

 

Leaving him bare-chested as he thrust his left arm under the stream of water.

 

“Mary?” Duo pointed at a girl raising her hand.

 

“Flush the burn with cool water for ten minutes,” she said.

 

“Good, good,” Duo nodded in agreement.

 

“Fifteen would be better,” another student spoke up.

 

“Okay - we’ll do fifteen,” Duo chuckled. “Ed, why don’t you time me. What happens next?”

 

“Depends on how bad the burn is,” a dark-skinned girl said. “How much area was exposed?”

 

“Not too much,” Duo said, “Just the area around the wrist - a bit above and a bit below.”

 

“Probably just flush it and put on a sterile bandage,” the girl said.

 

“He doesn’t need to go to the hospital?” Trowa jumped in. “It’s lye. All over his wrist. That’s not going to eat through his skin or-?”

 

“No, Dr. Barton, it’s not going to eat through my skin,” Duo had a forced smile on his face. “Don’t freak them out,” he added in an undertone. “I’m going to be fine.”

 

“If he goes into shock, we can call 911,” the girl said. “Dr. Maxwell, do you feel faint? You look kind of pale. How is your breathing?”

 

“What should his breathing be like?” Trowa asked.

 

The girl shrugged. “I dunno. Normal?”

 

He glared at her, but then looked back at Duo.

 

He  _ did _ look a little pale, but he also seemed to be breathing normally. And he was glaring at Trowa.

 

“I said I’m going to be  _ fine _ ,” he growled. “Seriously. Just trust me.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at that, and Duo sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

“Fine. Whatever. If I pass out, you can be the one to call 911. Happy?”

 

“No.”

 

They glared at each other, but there wasn’t all that much to say after that, and they fell silent as they waited for Ed to signal an end to the fifteen minutes of Duo flushing the wound.

 

When he finally turned the water off, Duo shivered.

 

“Are you in shock?” Trowa asked immediately, alarmed.

 

Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“No. I’m fucking  _ cold _ .”

 

“Oh. Is that normal - or could that be shock?”

 

“It’s the reaction my body has to being half-naked in a cold room while I run cold water over my arm for fifteen minutes.”

 

That made sense, and Trowa was starting to feel a little ridiculous.

 

He stepped aside and let Duo direct Ed on how to apply the bandage to his wrist.

 

“Okay. Class, why don’t we call an early end to things? I don’t think any of us want the Dean to come through and find me teaching class without a shirt on. Ed, can you help everyone clear away their supplies?”

 

“Of course, Dr. Maxwell.”

 

Duo shivered again, and Trowa pulled off his cardigan, feeling like an asshole for not thinking to do that earlier. He held it out to Duo, who stared at it blankly.

 

“You’re cold,” Trowa reminded him.

 

“Yeah,” Duo agreed, and let Trowa help him into it.

 

It was another twenty minutes before the students finished cleaning up their lab tables, and another ten before they had left.

 

Alone, Trowa and Duo stared at each other in awkward silence.

 

“So…” Duo said with a tired, wan smirk. “You going to give me bonus points on the observation form for the improv medical lesson?”

 

“No,” Trowa said immediately.

 

Duo looked momentarily crestfallen, but then his lips quirked up again.

 

“What if I take you out to dinner?”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“Dinner?”

 

“Sure,” Duo shrugged. “You’ve got to eat - right? And, you know, there’s still the chance of me going into shock. I should probably have someone keep an eye on me for another hour or two. Just in case.”

 

Trowa considered the offer.

 

He was tempted to just say no and walk away from Duo - much as the other man had walked away from  _ him _ three months ago. Except Trowa wasn’t going to sneak out. He was-

 

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” he repeated his earlier question.

 

Duo winced and sucked in a breath before slowly releasing it.

 

“Because I didn’t want to,” he said.

 

Trowa stared.

 

Well. Okay, then.

 

He turned to leave, deciding to write the cardigan off as an expense for his own naivete, but Duo reached out for him, uninjured hand finding Trowa’s.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Duo said in a rush. “I meant- I meant that I didn’t want to say goodbye to you. I didn’t- I mean, what did you want? To wake up with me still clinging to you like some- You wanted the morning breath and the awkward ‘well, this was fun, have a great life’? I didn’t want that. I- I mean, Trowa, we had a fucking  _ amazing _ night together. Hell, the sex was mind-blowing, but all the rest - the two am mac and cheese, the talking, the really, really questionable taste in glow-in-the-dark condoms-”

 

“I told you those were a gift. And  _ you _ didn’t have all that many complaints once I was-”

 

“I didn’t want to be the rebound fuck, Trowa.”

 

He realized, belatedly, that they were still holding hands.

 

“What did you want to be?”

 

Duo sighed and gave him a look.

 

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it? I fucked it up because I was afraid of fucking it up. Which is what I  _ always _ do and-”

 

Trowa tugged on their joined hands, bringing Duo close. The slightly shorter man looked up at him with wide, confused eyes.

 

“I didn’t want to say goodbye to you either,” he admitted. He ran his free thumb over Duo’s jaw, tracing it back to his ear and then cupping the side of his face. Duo leaned into the caress. “Duo-”

 

“Dinner,” Duo interrupted him. “Have dinner with me? Let’s try this again?”

 

“Yeah,” Trowa agreed, and then he kissed him.

 

Dinner was soon entirely forgotten.

 

-o-

  
Look at that - FINISHED A FIC!


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